Just a Hunch
by Always-Striving
Summary: When Fire Lord Ozai came to them with a proposal to end to the war, Aang had been all for it. Zuko had not. This was the Fire Lord's biggest lie yet, and thus had the most devastating effect on his children. But while forced to assume responsibilities he'd never imagined having, under perilous circumstances, at that, Zuko can still find the strength to pray for peace.


Yes, yes I know, I just updated another one of my stories a few days ago. But inspiration isn't on a schedule, and I wanted to get this out there before break ends and I get too busy to publish it.

Anyway, this is an idea that's been rolling around in my head quite a bit, that I've talked about quite extensively with my sister about, and has been on my hard drive for months now. I personally think it's one of the best things I've put out there in a while, so...yeah. I'm happy to have something I feel is decent out on fanfiction again since I'm being swarmed with schoolwork that I'm promising myself I'll do tomorrow.

Note: The word "Niang" is the romanization of the Chinese word for "mother", which I got from Falling Leaves (possibly the saddest autobiography ever). Three points if you can guess why.

Is that a run-on? I don't know; it's how I talk. Anyway, go on. Read.

* * *

It was hard to decide which candied fruit to take.

Or at least, to _look_ like he was trying to decide. To look like, to him, the only thing in the world right then was the decision between a moon peach and a fig when there was _so much more_ to think about. When Azula was smiling at him in that subtle, glaring, infuriating way three courtiers away from him. When he - the wayward prince who'd betrayed his father to fight for the peace that had too easily fallen into his lap - was hundreds, maybe thousands of miles away from the first person he could claim to trust. When occasionally, a nobleman would beam and remark how delighted he must be for the new couple and he'd have to look back up at the father he'd abandoned and the stepmother he despised and admit that, yes, they existed. Yes, he was there. Yes, he now had to serve his father's every whim and order.

Zuko gritted his teeth, chose the fig, and moved on. Maybe now he could languish in some dark, unseen corner of the ballroom and be left in peace.

"Oh, and of course I must introduce you to my brother."

He jerked at the voice before turning around, slowly, scowling. Through the low din and murmur of the crowd, Azula's voice grated on his nerves even more than usual; she was approaching him this time with yet another courtier's daughter. This one the same as all the others.

"Zuzu, there you are." She crooned. "I have someone I'd like to introduce you to. If," Her smirk widened, "It's alright."

His jaw tightened, "Who?" _As if it's not obvious._

The girl - the hundredth girl that night - stepped forward, smiling just small enough for it to be considered appropriate for court. "This is Lord Mao's daughter, Lady Rei Rei. She's been talking to me about some of the haikus she's composed. Apparently she's quite good at them."

"I won the regional haiku competition in my province." The girl blushed.

He forced his muscles to smile, "That's quite an accomplishment, Lady Rei Rei." Fully aware that he was now stuck with this woman until the clock struck midnight, unable to drift to a back corner like he'd planned.

Azula had made sure that his hands were tied as the night grew older, bound by (snort) gentlemanly honor to entertain this vapid debutante as it did. But his mind wandered off as Lady Rei Rei tittered on, and began straying into forbidden waters. If only there was time to think and figure this out... If only there was a middle ground, for as much as he felt his father's presence, and that of his new wife, he also felt another.

A flittering ghost. A boy. His brother. Their child.

A surge of anger crashed onto him, and it took all his strength to keep the scream bubbling up in his throat from tearing out. Because, not for the first time, Zuko questioned his own stupidity. _Of course_ his father had lied, _of course_ there was a catch, and _of course_ Aang would be blindly trusting enough to fall for it. There were so many "Of course"'s that it was hard to keep track of them all:

That Aang had somehow convinced them all - in his never-failing optimism - to go along with it, and for him - Zuko - to depart for the Capital City.

That Ozai had secrets his son hadn't been aware of until they were literally staring at him right in the face.

That Azula was always perfect, even for Niang.

That his father had another motive for ending the war.

That he, Zuko - effectively chained to the palace and to the capital - was powerless to stop it.

It was infuriating.

As Rei Rei's babbling drifted in and out of his consciousness, Zuko stewed. If he couldn't languish in a dark corner, he'd languish out here. He'd just have to be more subtle about it...

"Come on, Zuko! Think about it! If you go back to the Royal Palace, the war ends. And if the war ends, think of how many people we'd be saving!" His friend had enthused.

"You're just saying that because you don't want to fulfill your responsibilities."

Sigh. "No, really. If I were to face the Fire Lord on the day of the comet, then that would be another month and a half of war. So many people have died already, why should we add to it?"

"I don't trust him."

"But he told us all about how he's going to end the war; he even showed you the treaty drafts!"

"I don't trust him."

"He saved you from those bounty hunters!"

_"If it weren't for him, there wouldn't have been any bounty hunters to begin with!"_

"Well, he can't control that people want money!"

"Let me rephrase that, Aang: I hate him."

Aang had never taken well to firm answers, or firm anything, really. He always wanted to convince people that the least violent way was the best, and he always wanted to negotiate. He'd claimed that Zuko owed his father _something_ for saving his life (which Zuko himself didn't see the logic behind. The way he saw it, it was his fault his life had been in danger in the first place), that - repeating his "all life is precious" mantra - it would be a waste of all those people who would die if he didn't, and that if he did go, he'd have all his friends' support, and they wouldn't let anything happen to him. Finally, he'd decided to combine all his arguments and appeal to his firebending teacher's deep-rooted sense of honor and guilt, then topping it off with the same assurance that they'd all be there if anything happened. So Zuko had agreed, partly because Aang's tactic had worked and partly just to get him off his back about it.

And now he swore if he ever saw Aang again, he would strangle him. Screaming at him mercilessly for the mess he'd landed them all in.

Because really, what did _Aang_ know about anything? What did _Aang_ know about court, conspiracy, people looking through your mail, affairs, sadistic sisters, evil stepmothers, tyrannical fathers who treated you worse than they did the scum on their shoes, plots, poison, assassins, _death...?_

What did he know about any of it?

He was fast losing what little grip he'd had on whatever Lady Rei Rei was talking about, but he didn't care. He nodded when he needed to, smiled when it seemed right, softened his expression a bit at each one of her airy, thoughtful pauses - routine. Whether or not he came off as a little glazed over didn't matter at all when faced with the bigger matters at hand. Sozin and the rest of his family, the war, _the plans..._

Not for the first time since returning to the palace, Zuko wished he'd paid more attention in school, though for different reasons than before. Remembering the days when he'd only wanted to know the facts just for the sake of knowing the facts and getting it over with...made him want to laugh. Those days seemed so trivial, so carefree now, even if - _your __mother's__ grandfather, was Avatar Roku... Born in you, is the power to restore __balance__ to the world _- they held some of the most important experiences in his life. So many things had been so much simpler then...

"Zuko?"

It was a small voice, but Rei Rei's chattering cut off rather abruptly, and Zuko felt someone tugging at his sleeve. He looked down: Sozin. Vaguely aware of his acquaintance's murmurs of greeting towards the boy, he reached for the small, childish hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Hm?"

"When is it going to end?" The little prince rubbed at his eyes tiredly; the night was long, particularly for someone so young. It was ten forty-five. Most kids his age would have been in bed by then.

Zuko felt his muscles relax a little bit as he crouched down to meet his brother's eyes, partly to be more attentive, but mostly so he could hold his face up and keep him awake. "It probably won't be long now." He told him. "Then you'll be able to go to bed."

"'You sure?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Alright, then."

Sozin. Yet another factor to consider in this sticky web of lies. When he'd first arrived, Zuko had been wary of his new half-brother; there was no telling how Ozai could have corrupted him by the ripened age of nine. After all, he was ironically the source of this entire fiasco to begin with.

Sozin was the son of one of his father's concubines (well, no. Now she was his new stepmother. Technically. Officially. On paper.), Lady Xiu Min of the House of Hua. The Hua family wasn't particularly influential, it was a serving house to the Chen family, which was a serving house to the Zhang family, which was a serving house to the Royals. But that was exactly why Fire Lord Ozai had chosen her; some of the lower families had an unsatiable thirst for power and prestige which bred into them exactly the kind of cunning and backstabbing that Ozai must have always admired from afar. Not only that, but this concubine had borne him a son. In all honesty, Zuko hadn't been surprised in the slightest when Azula had first told him the reasoning behind it ("Of course he'd marry her, Dum-Dum. He wants another male heir to replace you - do you really think _you_ have what it takes to be Fire Lord one day?"). Annoyed, yes, but not surprised.

_Mother was still at the palace when he was born. He was three when she left._

_He was unfaithful._

Zuko tried his best to keep these thoughts - and the bitterness that came with them - at bay. Thinking such things would only get him in trouble, and it wasn't as if he could hold Sozin at fault just for being born. If he mulled about it too much, there wouldn't a point in trying to _protect_ his half-brother.

Looking back on it now, he cringed at how he'd first avoided the poor child. There was a great fear and suspicion attached to anything involving the Fire Lord's house, and thus, Zuko had treated the little nine-year-old with the same fear and suspicion. He'd failed to realize that same nine-year-old was just as miserable as he'd been as a kid, and if not more so.

_"I - I know you hate me. A-and I know you don't want to help me. But..."_

He'd failed to realize that the child too, had failed in their father's eyes.

Fire Lord Ozai had always wanted another son, his eldest had known that since he was seven. To him, Zuko was a disgrace in all ways that mattered, possessing a natural talent in firebending that was but sub par, a deep, deep sympathy for others that couldn't be stamped out no matter the consequences, but still the _nerve_ to lecture those better than him - like his sister - in subjects in which his knowledge was abysmal at best. Sozin, to his brother's understanding, was supposed to be the son his father had always craved. Cold. Shrewd. Wicked. Perfect. The male embodiment of his half-sister. _Supposed to be._

Bizarrely, Sozin's reality was everything Ozai _didn't_ want. A bender, yes, but with almost no innate skill in the art, he was quiet, skittish, kind, and naive. His father had wanted a fierce dragon; he'd gotten a spooked sparrowkeet instead. Niang had raised him on Kirachu Island, surrounded by bountiful fruits and sprawling estates, and trained him carefully in princely responsibilities, but that meant nothing if he couldn't bend. If he didn't have the bravery, the tenacity, or the brilliance that his father dreamt of. Day by day Zuko watched this, which could only be termed as a tragedy in his eyes, and grieved. His brother was the sun, shining the bright innocence childhood to all around him, but trapped by the circumstances of his own existence, drawing others - vultures - to him, none of whom could shine that same light. Only reflect. Only use for their own ends.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance, Lady Rei Rei."

"And I yours, Prince Sozin, even more so."

"Thank you."

The clock struck twelve; Zuko grieved.

"C'mon Sozin. Bed. Now."

o~O~o

It was the dead of the night, and Zuko was running.

His heart was pounding madly in his chest, throwing itself against his ribcage _so forcefully,_ as if trying to shatter the poor, battered bones. His eyes were peeled back: left, right, up, down - was that a noise? Raccoon-squirrel - false alarm. His hands were shaking, his will unable to stop the adrenaline from pumping _- thud, thud, thud_ - almost painfully through his veins. Zuko had slipped in and out of the palace many times over the years, and the guard detail was as ridiculously easy to get by as ever; it wasn't the thrill of sneaking out, nor the terror from almost being caught in the escapade, that alerted him. It was what he was carrying.

The black nothingness of the night had enveloped him, only broken by the moon's pale, sickly glow - _my first girlfriend turned into the moon -_ hiding him from sight as the well-trodden path of the marketplace muffled his footsteps to little more than dull and quiet thumps as he sprinted across the square. He was undetectable, or as undetectable as humans could be, but his heart betrayed him nonetheless.

_The tavern._

It was there, right in front of him. He could see its hazy outline slowly showing itself in the infinite darkness. Zuko slowed his pace, doing his best to even his breathing and compose himself after the run. He'd been running for an hour, and was now hot, sticky, and fighting off a migraine from the effort. Then, he knocked.

The narrow slat in the door scraped open, and a pair of deep, penetrating black eyes met his. "Who are you?" The eyes - the man - asked.

"I wish to play." Zuko replied hoarsely, "And to drink."

The hinges creaked, and the door opened. A teenager, maybe around his age, dressed in a cloak similar to his, held it open for him. He nodded in thanks.

The boy busied himself with getting a drink as Zuko sat down, settling at one of empty pai sho tables. The tavern was small. It could have almost been called cramped, but it was calm and warm and golden, having provided the peace that he'd yearned for since returning to the capital. He didn't bother shedding his cloak. No one did.

"Master Yao will be out here in a second." Said the boy, setting a warm mug of spice tea next to him. "Until then, please make yourself at home."

"Thank you."

The tea wasn't his uncle's, but it was pleasant enough. Hot and spicy, giving his stomach the nice tingles that came with the drink, Zuko felt his muscles loosen instantly by its soothing warmth and relished in the quiet harmony in the room. He fingered the lump in his pocket gingerly; the tranquility rippled within him.

He sipped the tea slowly and quietly, carefully observing the goings-on of the tavern as his headache slowly left him. He was already sorting through what he'd say to Master Yao in his head - this was too important. He had to get it right.

"Would you like a game, Young One?"

His head snapped up at the question, startled. There before him, the old, kindly Master Yao smiled down at him. His dark eyes crinkling with age at the corners as short wisps of his snow white hair fell from his topknot.

"Yes," Zuko smiled up at the elderly man, "Yes. Thank you."

His eyes crinkled further, "Let's go, then."

Zuko had been in this room many times. Its guise was that of a storage room at the back of the tavern, filled with ale and rum. But the truth was, this "tavern" didn't even sell liquor - it was against White Lotus policy, and most of the members liked tea better, anyway. Really, the storage room was stocked with books and papers: ballads of harmonious eras long past, great writers' tales, great thinkers' articles, volumes on old philosophy, on peace. And most importantly, information on war, and resources from all the other Lotus strongholds. It was even less spacious than the main room, but they made do. Everyone always did.

"So," Began Master Yao, settling himself carefully onto one of the flat cushions on the floor, "What do you have to tell me today, Prince Zuko?"

Silence.

"Well?"

"...I - I have the plans."

Just saying it made his voice quiver. He knew the weight of these plans - everyone did. Everyone in the Order knew that this peace (this front) wouldn't last, but no one had known how it would be broken. He knew. He knew how and he didn't like it; the whole way, he'd been cursing Aang_ again_ for being the naive fool that he was.

Master Yao, to his credit, remained remarkably calm. "Oh?" He asked, one eyebrow rising.

Zuko's heart was thumping painfully in his chest now, and getting closer and closer to its apparent goal of throbbing in his throat. His hands trembled as he pulled out the lump, the plans he'd painstakenly copied in his father's study during the dead of several nights so very like the inky black sky watching over them now, and strangely, he had to blink back tears. His trembling, trembling hands pushed the lump uneasily towards the grand lotus.

"Hm. Let's see here..."

His churning nausea didn't ebb away as he watched. If anything, watching Master Yao read through the papers with such a dark, horrid sense of foreboding, it got worse. His mentor's visage - always so calm in its sagely wisdom - blackened and twisted with the same disconcertion Zuko surely felt inside himself. The desolate reality was sinking deeper and deeper into his mind. There was no peace, there was no promise, th -

"Hm." Master Yao's habitual grunt broke soundly through his thoughts. "I think that's quite enough undercover work for you tonight, Young Man. It's about time for you to get back home."

Zuko blinked. _What?_ He'd just been given the most grand-scale, _revolting_ plans for genocide in the entirety of the Hundred Year War, and he was telling him to _go home?_

"Well? What are you just standing there for?" The old man snapped irritably, after a few moments' pause, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they'd barely conversed for more than two minutes since his liaison had arrived. "Go on, shoo! Get back to the palace! Go before the Fire Lord notices you're gone! You have to be back by five, don't you?"

Home. The palace. His father. Five. _Right._ Zuko tried his best not to sag with disappointment. "Yes, Master Yao." He said tiredly.

For a long moment, his mentor stared at him with that all too familiar, all-knowing gleam in his eyes. Then, he set one weathered, old hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry now, you'll come back. We're going to need some fresh, young soldiers like you again. Got it?"

He smiled. "Yes, Master Yao."

* * *

I'm really sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, please tell me about any if you spot them. Because I know you will. Unfortunately, I'm brain-dead and tired of looking at this right now. I got half of this done today, and it's taken hours.

Please review! Every single review is worth gold to me, and it really, really motivates me to write more.


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